She was inconsolable for two days after Griffin left to join his regiment, but she finally emerged from their room on the third day with firm resolve, a clear vision, and a handful of letters addressed to Griffin, Major Lord Abernathy, His Majesty’s Eleventh Blues, that she gave to Keswick to post.
Keswick rewarded her with three letters from Griffin that had arrived by special messenger that morning. The butler directed Alyssa to the conservatory, where the morning sun provided perfect reading light and where he knew she would be undisturbed while she read Lord Abernathy’s letters.
After reading and rereading each of Griff’s letters, Alyssa sought the library, where she immediately began drawing up and implementing her plans for the changes and improvements she hoped to make.
She adapted surprisingly well, absorbing the routine of the manor as she renewed her acquaintances with the staff by touring the house and taking notes.
Alyssa recorded the household routine: the number of staff members, the work schedule, cleaning schedules, the inventories, and special projects. Then she began interviewing Keswick and Mrs. Lightsey, the housekeeper, and Cook.
With Keswick’s and Mrs. Lightsey’s approval, Alyssa spoke with the household staff, seeking suggestions and gathering ideas for improvements, and then she turned her attention to the out-of-doors staff.
Griffin had spoken the truth that night at Almack’s when he’d told her he had an estate with a badly neglected garden. Once a masterpiece of Tudor design, the garden wasn’t the only part of the estate that had been neglected.
The manor appeared to be a substantial and financially sound holding—and Alyssa supposed it was—but the strong foundation on which it was based—that of a self-sustaining agrarian society—was crumbling. Unemployment in the village was high, due in part to the manor’s reduced circumstances, and the villagers were flocking to London and Liverpool and Birmingham in substantial numbers.
Alyssa learned that while there was a dairy on the property, there weren’t enough freshened cows to keep it running at full capacity. And although the manor showed great potential for the production of flax and hops and wool, no one had thought to utilize it. As a result, Cook often purchased milk and dairy products from the dairyman in the nearby village of Haversham. Men and women, who might once have found employment farming or managing the livestock at the manor or who might once have worked the empty looms, spinning wool into fabric, were now seeking employment elsewhere.
There were skilled craftsmen in the village and at the manor with few opportunities to practice their crafts. Because the master was so seldom at Abernathy Manor, the staff was kept to a minimum, and the cultivation of crops and livestock had steadily decreased.
No one criticized Griffin for the lack. His employees and tenants were, in fact, quick to defend him. The manor hadn’t suffered from poor management. It ran as efficiently as possible under the circumstances, but there had been no real attention paid to it since the previous master had inherited the title of Earl of Weymouth.
The earldom of Weymouth came with its own county seat, and the earl had been forced to divide his attention between the management of Weymouth Park and the running of Abernathy Manor.
Lord Griffin had been at Knightsguild. At the time, he’d been too young to assume control of the manor, and from Knightsguild, Lord Griffin had gone to university and from university, he had gone to London and his work in the War Office.
Like the enchanted castles in the fairy tales of old, Abernathy Manor had been waiting for someone to come along and notice its decline. It had been waiting for someone to restore it to its former glory. It had, it seemed, been waiting for someone like Alyssa.
And Alyssa was more than equal to the task. Accustomed as she was to resistance to change and tradition at Tressingham Court, Alyssa had been prepared to find the same resistance at Abernathy Manor. But what she found was unwavering loyalty and unquestioning support.
She discussed her plans with Keswick and Mrs. Lightsey, and Cook, with the head gardener, groom, and yeoman as she formulated them. She listened to their suggestions, learned from their experiences, and sought their approval before barging ahead with her new ideas for improvement and expansion. And there was no question that she got it.
And Alyssa was glad for it. For she needed the challenge of restoring Abernathy Manor. The planning of the improvements and her determination to push herself to oversee the beginnings of them had served a vital purpose. It kept Alyssa occupied. She planned, she implemented, and she recorded all of her plans in her diary and in the long, descriptive letters she wrote to Griff, telling him all the goings-on at the manor. She pushed herself hard, filling her days from dawn to darkness with tasks to be accomplished. Until she was tired. Too tired to miss Griffin—except late at night when she lay in the big bed in the master bedchamber, to tired too wonder and worry.
She had been so busy attending to the needs of the manor and its staff in the month since Griffin had left to join his regiment that she neglected to pay attention to herself—until the morning her body reminded her.
Alyssa recognized the signs and knew in her heart what they meant, but she waited two full days before putting pen to paper. Waited to be certain. But now, there was no doubt. She couldn’t wait any longer. She had to tell him. He had the right to know.
10 June 1810
Abernathy Manor
Northamptonshire, England
Dear Griffin,
As there is no easy way to tell you this, I write with the news that my monthly courses arrived two days past. I waited two days to write to you because I had hoped that the signs were false and that I might have better news.
But there is no doubt.
I, who boasted of becoming a master at everything I attempt, have been unsuccessful in that most basic of wifely responsibilities. I can only say that I am sorry to disappoint you and to have failed in keeping my end of the bargain.
I send my best to you and to Eastman and pray that God and Saint George will keep you safe.
As ever, Alyssa
Alyssa blotted and sanded the letter before folding it. She dropped a puddle of crimson-colored wax onto the fold and pressed the Abernathy family seal—the seal, Keswick had assured her, that belonged to all the lords and ladies Abernathy—into the wax, sealing her very private missive.
She finished sealing her letter and then rang for the butler, who carried it from her sitting room to the messenger waiting to hand-deliver it to Lord Weymouth at the War Office in London. She watched at the window as the messenger rode through the huge wrought-iron gates of Abernathy Manor, keeping him in her sights until he disappeared from view.
When she could no longer see the messenger in the distance, Alyssa turned from the window and fled to the master bedchamber. Quietly closing the door behind her, Alyssa flung herself, fully clothed, onto the huge bed, drew the covers up around her, buried her face in Griffin’s pillow, and cried.
She had failed. There was nothing of him left inside her. Nothing except the memories she carried. All she had was his name and the manor, and all she wanted was Griffin and a family. Restoring the manor would be all for naught if Griffin didn’t return to share it with her.
Alyssa didn’t come downstairs to supper or answer the knocks on her door for nearly a week. Sleep, along with pots of hot tea and brandy, eased the physical discomfort, and spoonfuls of broth from the supper tray Cook sent up each night and the pot of morning hot chocolate she sent up each morning kept Alyssa nourished, but nothing could ease the ache in her heart.
She needed time, Alyssa decided. Time alone to come to terms with her disappointment. Time to rest. Time to reflect and grieve for her loss. And when she was done with sorrow, she would write to Miranda and ask her to visit.
The rest of the staff quizzed Durham with questions about her ladyship’s health and her state of mind, but Durham was of little help. Alyssa’s lady’s maid couldn’t tell if her mistress had nibbled on any of the food on the tray Cook sent up or if
she was truly ill.
The only thing Durham knew for sure was that Lady Abernathy hadn’t left her room except to make use of the earth closet down the hall in days and that the reason for her sudden change of behavior was that her ladyship’s monthly courses had begun.
Realizing Lady Abernathy’s maid hadn’t yet grasped the significance of her ladyship’s withdrawal and her apparent sorrow, and that the maid would not be able to offer helpful suggestions for handling the problem, Keswick sent a messenger to Shepherdston Hall, seeking advice.
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